Trapped
by FiRe0fLy0StAr
Summary: When a girl from Scabior's past becomes his newest target, her world and his get turned upside down. Will they rekindle their feelings for one another, or were there none there to begin with? And how will they deal with the bounty on her head if they do? Scabior/OC R
1. Chapter 1

**Oh dear…I seem to have found a new obsession in none other than our very on Rufus Scabior. I will stick with this story! I will finish it! Ahem. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it (: I tried to change this up from the normal Scabior stories you read out there, I hope it is not too terribly boring. Please Read and Review. Any little bit counts! The more flames I have the more s'mores I get to make. I would also like some feedback on how explicit I should make this story. I'm going to make it as tame as possible, but there are some things that I would like to go into detail with, so let me know what you all think!**

**I do NOT own Harry Potter, however if I did, life would be so much better3 **

Her heart beat fast, and her lungs burned as though she had inhaled the very flames of hell. Tangled undergrowth and roots grabbed at her as her blistered, bruised unprotected feet pounded the frozen ground. She hadn't had time to put on her boots before the Snatchers had burst into her home, and the cold ground ripped at her bare feet mercilessly, leaving chunks of skin and blood strewn about the forest behind her. She could hear their boots thudding on the ground behind her, taunting her with their nearness.

The leader of the group of bounty hunters growled impatiently, picking up his pace, his tangled, dark hair whipping about him like a black halo. The tips of her long, burgundy hair were nearly within in his grasp, he grabbed for them, nearly toppling himself over. She yelped at how close he had gotten, and pushed herself to go farther, mentally willing her screaming lungs and burning legs to stop. They did not, and without warning her left leg gave out, sending her tumbling down an embankment and into a ravine.

Stunned, the girl lay there, gasping and blinking, trying to make sense of what just happened. Her head felt as though someone was beating on it with a hammer, and she was absolutely positive that she'd just been hit by a bus. Before she could get her wits about her and start running again, the wild eyed man who had led them after her began sliding down the embankment down to her.

"Ya done know, Gabrielle?" he laughed as he walked up to her, panting heavily, "Ya gave us a chase, little dove, I'll give ya tha' one." He wiped at his sweat covered face with his hands, and crouched down next to her.

"Go to hell, Scabior," she growled and tried to scoot away from him, failing miserably as her head began to throb.

"I spent four years in hell, darlin', and I ain't planning to go back," he barked, grabbing her by the arms and wrenching her up.

She whimpered, but clenched her teeth to keep from crying out. Scabior pulled her into his body, his hot breath ghosting across her face as her grinned at her.

"It's a thousand galleons for your head, Gabbi, three thousand if you're alive, I'm not sure which I would prefer," he growled in her ear, caressing her cheek.

"Awe, you mean to tell me that all those cold nights last winter that we spent together mean nothing to you now that you've sold out to You-Know-Who and Umbridge?" she spat.

"Wha' makes you think that they ever meant anythin', beautiful?" he sneered, grabbing a fistful of her hair.

She bit the inside of her cheek, drawing blood, she had to admit that that stung, and the feelings of rejection that she'd buried months ago surfaced all at once, but she quickly buried them and smirked.

"I believe that you did, right around the time you proclaimed your love for me and asked me to marry you when the war ended," she grinned, feigning innocence when she saw the fury written all over his face.

"Shut your mouth, you stupid wench, you meant nothin' to me, you're just a good shag. Speakin' of which, how 'bout it love? One last time 'fore Umbridge has you locked up in Azkaban?"

This earned a hearty laugh from his company and made Gabrielle's blood boil.

"I would rather die, besides, my last romp is going to be with someone a little bigger, if you know what I mean," she said, looking into his eyes, and giving him a smug smile.

"You shit face," he growled, smacking her.

She gasped, but recovered quickly, spitting in his face. He roared at her, throwing her to a werewolf looking man that she knew as Fenrir Greyback.

"I was prepared to be nice to ya, _Gabbi_. Was gonna make yer stay with us as painless as possible. I was gonna hold ya, and love ya, but now I think I'll let Greyback have his fun with ya, you can stay in _his _tent," he said with a scowl, turning his back to her and preparing to walk away.

Panic stirred in her gut and stabbed her like a knife, she made to run for him, but Fenrir's strong arms held her back. She felt tears sting her caramel colored eyes at the thought of the beast behind her laying a hand on her.

"No! Please Scabior, I'm sorry, I am just scared, please take me with you," she pleaded. It made bile rise in her throat to cry out to him like that, but if she had to pick her poison, she would be the best tasting one.

"Oh, so now you're being friendly, eh, lovely?" he purred, stalking back over to her. "You're gonna have to do better than a little beggin' if you want to appeal to my mercy now."

"W-what do you want me to do, anything, just _please _get me away from him," she nearly wailed, her voice wavering with unspoken sadness.

"Greyback, drop her and leave," Scabior snarled, flicking his wrist at the bigger man.

With a grunt the massive creature shoved Gabrielle unceremoniously on the ground, stomping away.

"On your knees," the Snatcher commanded as he undid his belt buckle.

Her stomach began to tie itself into knots as she realized his intentions, her lip quivering ever so slightly.

_This isn't the first time you've done this with him, Gabbi, just imagine that everything is like it was last winter, _she told herself, shakily getting to her knees.

It had been a long time for the man, and it was over minutes after it had started, but to Gabrielle, it felt like hours.

Buckling himself up and clearing his throat, Scabior gingerly offered her a hand, which she gladly accepted to pull herself up with. She was humiliated, and hot, embarrassed tears ran down her face. He gently reached out with his left forefinger and thumb, wiping the salty liquid away.

"Shhhh, love, ya don't want them knowin' 'bout this, do ya?" he grinned, dropping his hand away and sauntering toward the camp, her wrist gripped tightly between his fingers to prevent escape.

She heaved a sob, but composed herself. He was right, she didn't want anyone to know what just happened. In fact, she wanted nothing more but to crawl into bed and sob in to a pillow, and that's exactly what she did.

After reaching camp, Scabior took her to his tent, and she fell down on to the bed, waiting for him to leave before she curled up in the middle and cried herself into a restless sleep.

**So, what did ya guys think? Yes? No? Maybe?**


	2. Chapter 2: Escaping

**Alright, so I see some of you are favoriting and following this story, so that has inspired me to write a second chapter, lol! I am hoping to see some reviews sometime soon though, so stop being lazy :P I kid, I kid, however, I am sorry if this chapter seems a wee bit rushed! Thanks for your love! P.S. if it is in italics, it is a flashback.**

Gabrielle awoke the next morning with a start, the smell of fire whisky and muggle cigarettes filling her nostrils. The bed seemed to slant to the left, and when she rolled over, she saw Scabior sitting on the edge, sipping at a flask and smoking. She resisted the urge to tackle him and make a run for it, choosing to roll over and pretend to be asleep instead.

"Ya ain't foolin' no one, little dove," he chuckled, taking one last swig before twisting around and offering the flask to her. "We're gonna be doin' a lot of walkin' today, yer gonna need to hydrate yourself," he explained.

The dark haired girl huffed and rolled toward him, wrinkling up her nose at the flask.

"I would rather not drink fire whisky this early in the morning," she replied, pushing the thing away.

"Suit yourself, but you're gonna be thirsty, and we ain't got nothin' else," she shrugged, starting to take it away.

She huffed and snatched the flask from his hand, tossing back a gulp. The warm liquor burned like rubbing alcohol going down her throat, and made her eyes water and nose tingle. She choked slightly and handed it back to him, immediately feeling the effects of the hard alcohol.

"Merlin's beard, how do you drink that stuff?" she wheezed, wiping at her eyes.

"Ya get used to it love, makes ya grow a little hair on yer chest," he said, laughing at the disgusted look that crossed her face.

He got up off the bed, holding his hand out to her, dragging her out of the tent once she grabbed on to it.

She had a bad taste in her mouth, and her whole body ached as he pulled her across the camp, her tired muscles screaming in protest. Gabrielle took a moment to look around, evaluating all the members of this rag tag group, and planning how and when she would escape from them. She couldn't go to the ministry, she wouldn't, she could not go to Azkaban. In fact, she would rather Scabior kill her for trying to run, than go to Azkaban. Just the thought of the prison sent chills up her spine.

The girl thought for a minute, and then looked at long and hard at Scabior. She remembered specifically that he had an Azkaban tattoo on his neck, maybe she could convince him to let her go through empathy. With a snort, she quickly dismissed that thought, the man had no sympathy, he was a cold, heartless bastard.

After a few moments of fighting with herself, she finally spoke up and asked, "Where are we going?"

"You'll find out soon enough, sweetheart. Don't worry though, we ain't takin' ya to the ministry yet. We got a few more things to do first," the dark haired bounty hunter replied with a wide smirk.

At that moment, she'd never wanted to hit someone so much in her life. In fact, it was hard for her to believe there was a point in time that she'd actually loved this man that was gripping her wrist so hard, she thought for sure it would bruise.

_Snow fell outside, lightly kissing the ground with its frozen lips. Scabior and Gabrielle sat in front of a fire inside of a small shack, placed in the middle of nowhere, completely content to just be with one another._

_ "Y'know, it's 'ard to believe that you 'aven't got a boyfriend," he'd told her, looking over at her with cloudless blue eyes.._

She derailed that train of thought immediately, and glared at the back of Scabior's head. He wasn't the same man that he was back then, and she wasn't the same girl. It might've been less than a year ago, but time and the war had changed them both, for the better..or worse.

Sure, he wasn't the most charming guy when they had met, and he was fresh out of Azkaban, but he was honest and he seemed like a genuinely good person. Now, as she stared thoughtfully at the beaten up duster he wore, she knew he wasn't. He was a terrible person. A terrible, greedy man, and she had made a mistake to think he was any different.

They'd already started walking while she was reminiscing, and she took a moment to look around, surveying how far they had gone. She pulled Scabior to a stop for a moment to look behind her at the camp, it didn't look that far away, and she concluded that she couldn't have been zoned out for long. The man gave her a questioning look, but she waved him on and kept going.

They walked all day and into the night, the cold air turning their faces and hands bright red, chapping their lips and making Gabrielle shiver involuntarily. A few hours after the sun went down, Scabior announced that they were to make camp.

The dark haired snatcher led her over to a rock and pushed her down into a sitting position, "Stay here until I get back," he commanded.

"Why should I do that?" she asked dryly.

"Because you'll bloody regret it if ya don't," he threatened, pressing his wand against her neck.

She clenched her jaw and glared at him until her turned away and walked toward the woods. Gabrielle imagined that he was putting up enchantments to keep them from being discovered, but that wasn't her main concern. With Scabior gone for the moment, this was her chance for escape.

Quietly, she got up from where he'd left her, and snuck over to the forest unnoticed, as soon as the camp was out of sight, she bolted. She smiled and laughed, thinking she had been successful until suddenly she ran into a hard wall of lithe muscle that smelled of fire whisky and muggle cigarettes.

**Hope you enjoyed! Please review!**


	3. Chapter 3:Like A Fly In A Web

**This chapter is late, and rushed, so that's a double whammy. I am ashamed of this chapter. I am sorry. Forgive me:/**

Gabrielle gasped and fell back onto her bum, looking up at just what she'd run in to. Her heart dropped and her stomach flopped when she realized the _who _she'd hit. She scooted away from him, panic rising in her chest.

"Now, little dove, where ya goin' in such a hurry?" Scabior growled, grabbing a fistful of her torn teeshirt and jerking her upward toward him.

"Scabior..you've gotta let me go—"

"Oh, I don't _have _to do _anything_, darling," he cut her, wrenching her against his chest, and grabbing her chin forcing her to look up at him.

"Please!" she cried out, "I can't go to Azkaban! Kill me! _Please_..kill me.."

His breath caught in his throat at her plea, and he threw her to the ground, drawing his wand.

"Ya want me to kill ya?!" he growled, stepping toward her, wand pointed in her direction, "Is that _really _want you want, little dove?"

She noted how his grey-blue eyes were clouded with drunkenness and pure rage, it made her blood run cold.

"I can't go to Azkaban!" she screamed again, tears running down her dirty face.

"The hell you can't, love!" he laughed, kneeling down so that he was nearly on top of her, his face centimeters from hers, oaken wand pressed against her neck.

"Do you want me to tell ya a secret, little dove?" his gravelly voice rumbled in her ear, "I said the same things, and here I am, as good as I've ever been. Stronger. More _powerful._"

Her breath hitched in a sob, and she pushed against his chest, trying to get him off of her, trying to regain some leverage in the situation to no avail.

"I told ya if ya ran from me you'd blood regret it," he continued, pressing his knee into her chest, "But I'm not gonna kill ya. Not now, not later, I might've taken mercy on ya had ya be'aved yerself, but now…now I'm gonna take you to the ministry, and I'm gonna laugh while the dementors…_Suck. You. Dry."_

Gabrielle quickly rolled enough to turn her face away from him and expelled the meager contents of her stomach onto the ground, his words breaking down the last bit of strength she had. She began to hyperventilate and cry harder, the girl tried to speak but it only came out in indiscernible blubbers.

Scabior felt his heart clench, but ignored it, and blamed it on his drunkenness, he pulled his knee off of her and jerked her up off of the ground and away from the vomit, not saying another word. He drug Gabrielle back to the camp and threw her down onto the ground.

"I trust ya won't run again, deary," he growled before walking away from her, back into the woods.


End file.
